Tonight We Dance
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bart Maverick was never supposed to fall in love with this woman. But it takes almost losing her forever before he realizes she's the one he can't live without.
1. Marching to a New Drummer

Tonight We Dance

Chapter 1 – Marching to a New Drummer

I rode back into Little Bend, Texas, almost six months to the day since I'd gone tearing out of town to try and save my brother's life. He was in Hobbs, New Mexico waiting to stand trial for the murder of a man he didn't kill, and I was at home getting ready to tell the woman that I'd fallen in love with, just that. So many things had happened since then, and I had no idea what direction my life had decided to go in.

The best thing – I'd gone and played detective and found the real murderer in New Mexico, and when I rode out of the little town, Bret rode right along next to me. Then we had to rush to Kansas City, Kansas, where Brother Bret's woman, Pinkerton Detective Ginny Malone, was playing her version of dress-up; posing as Sammi Jo Withers at Diamond Lil's. I'm glad we weren't involved in that one – it was complicated. When Malone was finally done with it, her and Bret decided the best way to make sure I got back to Little Bend was to take me there themselves. So that's what we did.

Of course, nothing in my life ever goes quite as planned, and, as I said before, it was six months before I saw familiar surroundings. Bret and Ginny had ridden straight home to Uncle Ben's house, and I had gone on to the town proper, which was the last place I'd seen the woman in my life, Doralice Donovan.

I guess I better explain all the people involved before it gets any more complicated. There's Beauregard, the patriarch of our branch of the family, and his younger brother Bentley. I don't know how many years difference there are between Beauregard (Pappy) and Uncle Bentley. I'm not sure anybody cares.

Pappy had two sons, Bret (Brother Bret) and Bart (that's me!) and we're seventeen months apart. Uncle Ben had one son, Beau (named for Pappy) and he's somewhere in between me and Bret. Also, living in the house full time is Lily Mae Connors, who long ago ceased being Ben's housekeeper and became a member of the family. She's more surrogate momma than anything to Bret, Beau, and me.

At any time you might also find Captain Ginny Malone, when she's in town, Doralice Donovan, when I need her there, and various animals. Those would include Misses Melody, the cat with who knows how many kittens and her good friend Gracie the hound.

You can see why I rode into Little Bend instead of Uncle Ben's house (which he laughingly refers to as 'the mansion' because of its size). The most I had to contend with there were the aforementioned Doralice, her mother Maude Donovan who owned Maude's, the biggest and brightest saloon in the town limits, and her mother's fiancé, Cristian de la Torres, also her attorney. The odds were in my favor.

Of course, the only one I REALLY cared about at this exact moment was Doralice, the aqua-eyed blonde that had taken her time and stolen my heart. I'd sent her a telegram when we originally arrived in Kansas City and led her to believe I'd be home sooner rather than later . . . then there were various communications from Dodge City, Dumas, Texas and finally from Amarillo. I got an answer from Amarillo, but I wasn't sure if she was lonely or angry. Or a little of both.

It was dark by the time I arrived, and I headed to Maude's. There was a new bartender at the bar, and I stopped and asked after the lovely Miss Donovan and was told she was 'indisposed' and I should come back tomorrow. Of course, that wasn't about to stop me from locating my lady love and I marched, past his protests, straight into her office. I wish I hadn't.

There was my beautiful woman, wearing a spectacular pink ball gown, in the arms of another man.

XXXXXXXX

I stopped dead in my tracks and stood absolutely still for I don't-know-how-long. The man was a bit older, and a bit taller, and I felt my heart begin to slowly break into a million pieces. He wasn't even good looking, with a droopy little mustache and thinning hair on top, but none of that mattered. He had my woman in his arms.

I heard her gasp, and I fled; turned tail and ran like a coward. Right straight into Maude's office I went; she was doing the books and having a snifter of brandy, and I grabbed what was left of her snifter and drank it down without even flinching.

"Bart!" Maudie exclaimed as I crashed into the chair in front of her desk. "What are you . . . my God, you're as white as a ghost!" She pulled another glass from her desk and filled it, then handed the full glass to me. Without hesitation I drained the second glass; hoping that was enough to make me stop shaking. "What happened? When did you get back? Did you . . . oh, goodness gracious, I bet you walked in on Doralice and her lesson, didn't you?" She poured the third glass, only about half full this time, and put it in my empty hand. "I'm so sorry, didn't Randy at the bar warn you she was busy?"

I nodded and gurgled something, that was about all I could do right now. Maude reached across the desk and took my hands in hers, sitting the now-empty glass on the desktop and making some kind of clucking noises. "It's not what you think, honey. It was a surprise, for you. So she could dance with you at my wedding to Cristian. She's been taking dance lessons from Aaron Miller – that's who she's in there with now. Oh, Bart, if either of us had known you'd be here tonight . . . do you want another brandy, honey?"

I shook my head 'no.' "It's really . . . she's not . . . I mean . . . dance lessons? She doesn't know how to dance?" I never should have shaken my head, or gulped the brandy, or any of the other things that tied my stomach in knots . . . because as sure as can be, I spent the next five minutes bent over Maude's chamber pot, making an utter fool out of myself. Maude rubbed my back and murmured words of encouragement, neither of which did a thing to comfort my insides. The only thing I could be grateful for was my hasty exit from Doralice's office, before I had a chance to make a complete ass of myself. And then I didn't even have that.

Maude's door opened and there my lady stood, watching in horror as I wretched my insides out, her own mother trying her best to make me feel more like a man and less like a child. Just as my stomach began to settle down, my emotions started to heave and roll. I was torn between crying and dying of embarrassment. How did I get into this mess?


	2. Doubts and Fears

Chapter 2 – Doubts and Fears

"Bart! What happened? Are you alright?" It was Doralice, and she had rushed into her mother's office and taken Maude's place rubbing my back, her voice full of concern and pity. "What's wrong with him?" she asked Maude.

"I . . . don't know," I heard Maude reply. "He just came in and got sick . . . let me take care of him . . . you go finish your lesson."

"We're done for the night. I sent Aaron home." She turned her attentions back to me. "Are you through? Here, here's a towel to wipe off with. Come over here and sit down. That's it. Now, can I get you some water?" Before I could answer Doralice had already left the room, headed for the bar and fresh water. I wondered if Randy would say anything to her about my earlier inquiry.

She came hurrying back with a glass of water and the sweetest smile. My 'homecoming;' had turned into quite a show; a bad one at that, and I knew that eventually I was going to have to come clean with this woman. But I was thankful that it didn't look like that moment had to be right now.

I took the water from her and smiled wanly. "I . . . I don't know what happened, Doralice. I just . . . I just got here and got sick. Sorry, honey, I just wanted to surprise you."

She kneeled on the floor in front of me and took the empty glass from my hands, setting it on Maude's desk. Then she cupped my face in her hands and kissed my cheek, and I felt like the biggest fraud on earth. "C'mon, let's get out of here and go to Maude's. I can take better care of you there." I looked at Maude as I let myself be led out, and my eyes pleaded with her to remain silent. Bless Maude's heart, she complied.

It was but a short walk to Maude's house, and I felt practically revived by the time we got there. Almost good enough to confess all to Doralice. Almost. We entered the house and I looked around; nothing had changed in six months. Nothing had changed inside the house, but I wondered – how much had changed inside me?

Don't get me wrong – my feelings about the woman were as strong as ever. I don't know how to explain it – something was different about me. How could I have walked into that office tonight and saw what I thought was Doralice cheating on me with another man? There should have been no doubts, no questions in my mind about her love and her loyalty. And yet . . . and yet my first instinct was one of betrayal. What was wrong with me?

Doralice insisted I rest on the settee, with a warm blanket tucked around me and another glass of water in my hands. Every time I tried to explain what had actually happened at Maude's, she insisted whatever I wanted to tell her could wait until later, and I finally gave up trying. The last thing I remember was dozing off with my head on her shoulder, feeling guilty about everything that had happened in the last hour or two.

When I woke it was to the sound of voices – female voices that I knew well. "I told you, Doralice, he just came runnin' in and he was sick. Probably ate somethin' on the trail that didn't agree with him." I winced, knowing full well and good that Maude was covering up for me.

"I certainly didn't expect Bart to be sick his first night home. I had such plans . . . "

"I know you did, honey, but these things just happen. I'm sure he'll feel better in the mornin'."

I sat up and watched the two of them, mother and daughter, the beautiful original and the even better copy, and wondered just what was wrong with me. When I left six months ago for Hobbs, Doralice and me were in the best place we'd ever been. I'd even been thinking about something more . . . permanent. I told Pappy that I loved her before I lit out for New Mexico, and nothing about my feelings for her had changed in the interim. Then why my extreme reaction to seeing her in Aaron Miller's arms last night? How could I assume the worst, knowing her as well as I do?

As I sat there and listened to them talk it slowly began to dawn on me – the problem wasn't with Doralice's feelings – the problem was with mine. Somewhere during the time I was gone, I'd begun to doubt that a woman like that could love a man like me – selfish, cowardly, lazy, a rover who always wondered if the grass was greener on the other side of the hill. I'd never be smart enough, or good enough, or dependable enough to be counted on. And at the first opportunity I'd been given to be proven right, where did I find her but in the arms of another man.

There must be dozens, if not hundreds, of men out there that would be more suitable for Doralice Donovan than Bart Maverick. And I was sure that every night she tended bar at Maude's saloon there were plenty of men willing to prove it to her. Before I could get any further in my self-loathing I heard a familiar voice say, "Look who's awake."

I tried to smile brightly and look pleased to be alive; I don't know if I succeeded or not. "Feel any better?"

That was an easy one to answer. "Considerably. How long was I asleep?"

Doralice answered me. "Just a couple hours. You look so much better than you did before. Any idea what happened?"

"I think maybe that last can of beans was no good."

Maude nodded, in complete agreement with my supposed ailment. "Things like that can't be helped sometimes. Well, I'm off to bed. Good to see you home, Bart. Cristian will be thrilled that he doesn't have to look for a new best man. I'll see you two tomorrow." Before I could even say 'Thank you' Maude was gone, and Doralice and me were alone.

"Come over here," I told her, and patted the cushion next to me. "I didn't even get to give you a proper kiss."

"You were a little preoccupied," she reminded me as she came over and sat down. I put my arms around her and kissed her, and for a moment all was right in the world. For a moment, until I began to wonder why a woman like this loved a man like me. I was just gonna hafta pretend everything was fine until I had a chance to figure this all out.


	3. Both Sides of the Coin

Chapter 3 – Both Sides of the Coin

I rode back to Uncle Ben's house as soon as I convinced Doralice I was alright. That was partially true – I was fine physically, but mentally – let's just say I've been better. By the time I got home everyone was awake, and all seemed glad to see me. Trust Bret to notice something out of the ordinary.

"You okay, Brother Bart?"

"Sure," I answered, which was probably a mistake.

"Everything alright with Doralice?"

"Everything's fine, Bret."

"Let's go have a smoke out on the porch, whatta you say?"

So I followed him reluctantly, out to the front porch, where he proceeded to light two cigars and hand one to me. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Bret, nothing," I tried to assure him.

"Then why didn't Doralice come back with you? Better yet, why aren't you still there with her?"

I suppose I deserved the interrogation. After all, I wouldn't leave him alone when I knew there was something wrong between him and Ginny. Foolishly, I thought maybe he might provide some kind of insight and help me understand what was really goin' on. So I told him the truth about my arrival in town, and everything that happened afterwards. When I finished there were several minutes of dead silence before he said anything. And then, what followed, was truly profound.

"Oops."

I blew a whole mouthful of smoke at him. "Are those your words of wisdom?"

"What did you expect? You know what you have to do. You have to go tell Doralice everything you just told me."

"And then what?" I asked him.

"Then I don't know, Bart. That's up to you and her to work out. Just like Ginny and me had to."

I sighed. Bret was right, and I knew it. But dang it, I wanted a quick fix, an answer that was easier than confessing the truth – I didn't know who I was anymore. Or who I was supposed to be.

XXXXXXXX

So I went back to what I was doin' before I got on my horse this morning and rode home – I pretended everything was fine and went about ignoring anything that challenged that opinion.

I unpacked my war bag and took a good look at what was left of my wardrobe. Bret and me were both fond of fine-looking, luxurious clothing – not as fancy as Dandy Jim Buckley wears, but well-made coats and vests. I'd had some silk waistcoats made a while ago in Natchez and really liked the look and feel of the material, but they'd long since needed replacing and, so far, I'd done nothing about gettin' any new ones. Maybe I should stop trying to figure out what was goin' on in my head and concentrate on what wasn't happening elsewhere in my life. Like doing something about my attire.

I guess I'd been looking at what was left of my pitiful clothes for about ten minutes when I finally realized I wasn't alone in the room. I turned my head just far enough right to catch the flash of red out of the corner of my eye, and I knew that my favorite Pinkerton agent was in the doorway. I usually called her Beauty, and if you saw her, you'd understand why. "Thought you weren't ever gonna notice me," she said teasingly, and flashed that beautiful smile at me.

"I noticed you before Bret ever did, Beauty – it's just that he was faster than me," I reminded her, and I was right. We'd met on the train to Denver and I'd actually seen her first, but Bret moved faster than I did that day, and I had to admit that she'd picked the right man. The two of them fit together perfectly, and I'd already found my own woman. Or so I thought.

"What's bothering you, Bart? Something's not right. I could tell that as soon as you got to the house this morning. I asked Bret, and all he did was shrug and mutter. Anything you wanna talk about?"

God, I was crazy about this woman. We'd shared a lot, including a long stretch of time in Memphis where we waited to see if Bret would quit 'hovering' between life and death and come back to us. Maybe it was Beauty I should have talked to instead of Bret this morning. "What would you do if Bret accused you of seein' somebody behind his back?"

Beauty smiled. "Before or after I shot him?"

"I've got a problem I don't know how to solve, Ginny."

She sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her, much the way I had with Doralice the night before. "Why do you think your brother sent me to see you?"

Hmmm. Smarter than I'd given him credit for after all. It wasn't as easy trying to explain it to Ginny – us being on opposite sides of the fence, so to speak. But I did my best and I think most of it made sense. At least it did to me.

"Sounds like Bret's sending for you happened at the worst time. For you, I mean. And then you had to stop takin' care of yourself and spend all that time takin' care of him. But I have a question that maybe you ought to think about – you've done your best to explain this all to me, and I can't begin to care for you the way Doralice does. Why can't you sit her down and try to explain it all to her?"

Good question, no answer. Pride, guilt, shame, I'm not entirely sure. Ginny had made an excellent point, one that I was gonna have to give some thought to. Along with everything else that I needed to think about.

"That's what I expected, Bart, you don't have any answers right now. But there is somethin' you can do before you solve all your problems . . . go spend time with her. You're not questioning how you feel about her, and maybe bein' with her will help you figure out why you reacted the way you did. It's better than sitting out here brooding." She hesitated for a minute, and when she started up again there was a twinkle in her eye. "And one thing else you can do – go get yourself some new clothes. Your brother thinks you look shabby."

And Ginny succeeded in doing something Brother Bret hadn't been able to do – she made me laugh. "Yes, Captain," I replied, and saluted her as I got up from the bed. Maybe there was hope for me after all.


	4. Finish What You Start

Chapter 4 – Finish What You Start

Since I couldn't think of any reason not to, I got cleaned up and went to the barn, to give some long overdue attention to an old friend of mine, Noble, my gelding. We'd been together a long time, and I'd been trying to ease him out of everyday activity when the wire from Bret came, and there was only one way to get to New Mexico in a hurry. That was six months ago; since then, sometimes Noble had gotten the proper attention and sometimes he hadn't. But he was home now, and it was time for some rest.

I'd brought two apples, one for Noble and the other for Blue, the little blue roan mare I'd purchased in the hopes of giving Noble some time off. Blue ate hers daintily, the way a lady was expected to; Noble took his in one gulp and greedily looked for another. "One at a time, old man," I reminded him, and after a few minutes of snorting and fussing he settled down and let me do some serious grooming. Blue just stood and watched us, waiting patiently for her turn. She reminded me of Doralice; all soft and gentle on the outside, fiery and passionate underneath.

When I finished with Noble I turned my attentions to Blue; I swear she purrs just like Melody the cat. Speaking of which, I hadn't seen Melody or any of her latest batch of kittens since I got home and was most anxious to see just how many miniatures we had this time. When I'd finished with Blue I went looking for Melody and her friend Gracie the hound and found both of them snuggled up in a corner of the barn, three little replicas of their Momma wedged between the two, all sound asleep. I crept away softly, not inclined to wake any of them, and proceeded to saddle Blue.

The gelding gave me an ugly look and tossed his head. "Better get used to it, old man. We all have to retire sometime." I wondered how long it would be before those very words would come back to haunt me. Blue seemed happy enough, and we rode out of the barn and headed for Little Bend.

All appeared quiet at Maude's. I assumed Maude herself was at home, asleep, and Doralice was inside the saloon taking care of the daytime business. Depending on who was tending bar with her, I might have to own up to the truth of last night sooner than I thought.

I was in luck, sort of; business was fairly slow and Doralice was by herself behind the long, mahogany bar. As I walked through the batwing doors, those aqua eyes made contact with my brown ones, and I'm not sure who gave the impression of being the happiest. She came out from behind the bar and I swept her into my arms and up in the air, and every doubt I'd had last night was forgotten. This was the woman I'd had to leave so abruptly six months ago, and there was no question that she was as happy as I was to be back in this place, in these arms, at this time.

My joy didn't last long. The back door opened and Randy, last night's bartender, made his way into the saloon. When he got close enough he recognized me, and started out, "Miss Donovan, this is the man that came . . . "

"Rushing in last night like a crazy man," I finished for him. "Sorry I paid no attention to you, Randy, but I was about to be sick."

"You're Mr. Maverick?" Randy asked, and I felt like I'd dodged a bullet. At least temporarily.

"I am," I answered as I set Doralice down on the floor and stuck my hand out. Warily, Randy took it, not quite sure whether to continue what he had started to say or not. He didn't.

I quickly turned my attention back to Doralice. "Maude working tonight?"

She looked up at me eagerly. "You betcha. You feelin' alright now?"

"Couldn't be better. Dinner at eight and then coffee at Maude's?"

Doralice nodded and grinned at me. We both knew what 'coffee at Maude's' meant. "Oh, yes. That's what I was planning on last night."

"About last night . . . can we talk about this in your office?"

She gave me a peculiar look and then took my hand, heading towards her office. "Randy, handle the bar," she called back over her right shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am, Miss Donovan."

Doralice in the lead, I followed behind her and closed the door. I fully intended to explain to her exactly what happened last night, but I'd no more than gotten my mouth open when she closed it by kissing me. Not that I was complaining, mind you, but once more I didn't get to do what I'd set out to do. It was beginning to look like I never would.

Twenty minutes later we were still in her office, on the settee she'd had installed along the back wall while I was gone, and it was time to either quit what we were doing or lock the door. "Doralice . . . "

She reached up to pull my head back down when there was a knock on that door. "Who is it?" she called, giggling.

"It's your Mother. Is it safe to come in?"

I jumped up and hastily buttoned my shirt. Doralice called out, "NO! No, no, no."

"Once was enough," Maude answered. "Come to my office when you can, please. Cristian is here, and he has some questions for all of us."

I felt the same way I'd felt when Bret caught me and Cora Stampers in the river the summer I was thirteen. We'd started out acting like adults and ended up behaving like out-of-control children. I took her hand and pulled her into a sitting position, shaking my head and apologizing. "Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm actin' like a naughty schoolboy. You deserve better than this."

Doralice giggled again and wiped something off my mouth. "Don't you apologize. You weren't sittin' on this sofa by yourself. I missed you so much . . . I just couldn't wait until tonight." She paused to catch her breath. "Maude will get over it." She retied my tie and smiled at me. "There. You look presentable. What about me?"

I brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and straightened the top of her dress. "Perfect. Shall we go get scolded?"

"We might as well," and stood on tiptoe to kiss me once more, before giggling one last time. "At least we won't get interrupted later."

"I sure hope not," I murmured under my breath. "I'd like to finish what I started."


	5. Too Many Changes

Chapter 5 – Too Many Changes

I don't know what I expected when we walked into Maude's office. A disdainful look, a chastising remark, a less than pleasant attitude. Maybe because I thought myself acting like a child I expected to be treated like one. There was none of that in evidence, however, and me and Doralice were welcomed in as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Cristian stood up and we shook hands; he told me I looked good and I told him the same. It turned out he had some pre-wedding paperwork to be signed; he and Maude had agreed that what was his stayed his and what was Maude's stayed Maude's. In other words, he kept his law practice and she kept the saloon. It was their life and their money – they wanted Doralice to sign as a beneficiary and me as a witness. What I didn't know at the time was that Maude had transferred ten percent ownership in the saloon to one Mr. Bartley Jamison Maverick.

When the signing was all over Cristian left for his law practice and Doralice and me went back to her office, this time with the door left open. I ran Ginny's conversation regarding my lack of wardrobe past the woman whose opinion mattered most, and she agreed – I needed some new clothes.

"Any suggestions?" I asked her as we drank coffee and tossed the idea around.

"Maude says there's a new tailor in town – a man named Humphries. Cristian had a suit made and he was real pleased with it. Want to give him a try?"

"Go with me? I'd like your opinion. Bret's always tellin' me I wear too much black." That was the truth. Told me I had potential as an undertaker if I ever wanted to quit playin' poker for a living.

"When?"

"Now?"

She looked down at her dress and then looked at me. "I have to go home and change clothes first."

I'm sure my eyes lit up. "I can go with you."

Doralice laughed and shook her head. "If you go with me we'll never get to see Mr. Humphries."

"You have a point. Alright, I could use a shave – I'll go see Jim Walker." Walker was the town barber and had been for as long as I could remember.

Another shake of the head from my beautiful blonde. "You can't. Jim Walker retired three months ago. New barber's name is Milt somebody-or-other."

Now it was my turn to shake my head. "What else's changed? I was only gone six months."

"Life goes on, honey. Even in Little Bend, Texas."

New tailor. New bartender. New barber. And what had started this whole mess? My woman taking dance lessons. Dance lessons, for heaven's sake. I sighed. "Same sheriff?"

"Same sheriff. Although Dave did get a new deputy."

Dave Parker was a little older than me and had been threatening to hire a deputy sheriff as long as I could remember. "Anybody I know?"

"Will Benton."

"Little Willie Benton? Are you kidding me? He can't be more than . . . "

"He was twenty-two last spring, Bart."

Little Willie Benton? Twenty-two? Where in the world had the time gone? Why, that would make me almost . . . never mind. I had enough to think about at the moment. No wonder I didn't know who I was anymore, or who I was supposed to be. Everything around me was changing, including the people I'd known my whole life. The next thing you knew Doralice would tell me . . .

She shook her head, almost reading my mind. "No, you don't have to worry about that. Ray Ames is still over at the LB Bar."

Whew, that was a close one. "Anything else I should know about?"

"Willa's got a name change – Sawyer's Country Café, I think it's called now. You know Sawyer Bedford bought it years ago – she just refused to change the name, as long as Willa was alive. That's about all I can think of, for now at least." She paused and felt my forehead. "You sure you're over whatever got you last night? You're white as a ghost."

I was fine . . . maybe. I needed time to absorb all that had happened around me. Things that I was just now noticing. "Yeah. I'm okay. You go change clothes and I'll meet you back here in twenty, thirty minutes." Just to prove there was nothing wrong with me, I bent down and gave her a kiss. Then I hurried from her office and out the front doors . . . straight on down the street to Jim Walker's Barber Shop. No matter what it was called now.

XXXXXXXX

Milt Hightower was just as good a barber as Jim Walker had been. Milt actually lived in Little Bend but worked as the barber in Claytonville for years, waiting for Jim to retire and sell him the business. Funny, I used to know things like that, and maybe I still did. It just seemed like everything had hit me all at once, and along with all the other things I was feelin' about myself there was one more thing you could add to the list – I was feelin' old. And there was no earthly reason for it. Or was there?

I picked Doralice up at Maude's and we went to investigate the tailor. Sam Humphries, one of the newer residents of Little Bend, was a nice enough man, and one who had done some work with silk vests. And he had several coats I liked, including a beige one, a brown one and a cream frock coat, as well as a midnight black that I was crazy about. I discovered something else while we were getting to know Mr. Humphries and his merchandise – he had an assistant named Aaron Miller.

"How soon did you want these, Mr. Maverick?" Humphries asked as I was trying on yet another waistcoat, one that would have to be altered considerably to fit me, but it would be perfect for the wedding, along with the new cream coat. It was silver and gold on a solid cream silk fabric, and for a moment it made me think of Jacques Armand and Rick Michaels, and I kind of shuddered involuntarily. I caught Doralice watching me and I couldn't remember if I'd told her about the whole bunch down in Fort St. Rafael, including Kate Duecet. On second thought, better leave that one right where it was buried.

"Can I get 'em in the next two weeks, Mr. Humphries? There's a wedding comin' up . . . "

"Ah yes, the Donovan, de la Torres nuptials. Matter of fact, Miss Doralice, aren't we making . . ."

"Yes, Mr. Humphries, Mrs. Miller is working on something for me." Great. Not only had I all but accused the 'dance teacher' of elbowing in on my woman, he had a wife. Who was evidently working on a dress for Maude's attendant, her daughter. This just got better and better.

"No problem. Mr. Maverick. Come back next week and we'll see how much more we need to alter things. What would you prefer for the wedding itself? The gold and silver vest and the cream silk frock coat?"

"That's it exactly. You're very perceptive, Mr. Humphries." I was pleased to find a local tailor who'd caught on to my style of dress so quickly.

"You dress very old-world elegantly, Mr. Maverick. Very much like your father."

I was smiling as we left Sam Humphries store. Until I remembered that I still hadn't told Doralice the truth about last night. "Let's go back to your office. Give Maude some time for supper with Cristian before we leave for the night. There's somethin' I want to tell you, anyway."

Business had picked up considerably since we'd left the saloon earlier in the day, and Doralice was needed behind the bar. Since I had no official position at Maude's anymore and it's impossible to hold a serious conversation with Doralice when she's pourin' drinks, I went and found myself a poker game. It gave me some time to think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and why I was havin' so much trouble dealin' with it. Especially the glimpse of my woman in someone else's arms.


	6. Broken

Chapter 6 – Broken

That's what started it all, when I first saw my woman in the arms of Aaron Miller. Of course, I didn't know she was taking 'dance lessons.' Or that she was doing it as a surprise for me. All I knew was that he wasn't me, and it hurt like hell. By the time I discovered the truth I was drunk and sick to my stomach, and the only way to back out of it gracefully was . . . well, there really wasn't one.

Her mother knew the truth of what happened. Maude was there and saw most of it. My brother and his woman knew the truth, too. Because I'd confessed my mistake, my error in judgement, to both of them, hoping they might help me find a way out of the quagmire I'd created. They both said the same thing. Tell Doralice the truth. Tell her that you love her, but you don't trust her. No, that's not quite it. Tell her that you love her, but it's your feelings you don't trust. Tell her that you're not good enough for her. Tell her that the world is changing too fast for you to keep track of it.

Oh, hell. Just sit her down and tell her the truth. And quit drivin' yourself crazy.

XXXXXXXX

We ate supper but my heart wasn't in it. We'd both been lookin' forward to goin' back to Maude's for coffee, but my heart wasn't in that, either. By the time we got back to Maude's, I was so on edge that I was about to jump out of my skin.

Doralice perched on the settee with a real cup of coffee while I prowled the room. "Last night," I started, then couldn't go any further.

"What about last night?"

I sat down next to her and took one of her hands in mine. "Last night I wasn't sick. I was drunk."

"What?"

"I was drunk, Doralice. I got here when you were taking one of your dance lessons with Aaron Miller. Only I didn't know that's what it was . . . I thought . . . I thought you'd given up on me . . . and you'd found . . . someone to take my place."

We sat like that for two or three long, miserable minutes before she pulled her hand away from me and stared right into my eyes. Her voice was soft and calm. "There's more. I know there's more. Go on."

"I thought . . . you saw me. I heard you gasp and I ran, like the coward that I am, straight in to Maude's office. She had a glass of brandy on her desk, and I grabbed it . . . and drained it. I was a mess, Doralice. I'd just seen . . . I thought I'd just seen you in another man's arms . . . I didn't know what it really was. I was shakin', and Maude poured me another . . . I drank it down before she could tell me the truth, about the lessons and your surprise. And by the time she had . . . you know how my stomach gets on liquor . . . I just . . . I just was so sick and ashamed. How could I . . . how could I think that you'd . . . "

Dead silence. Then, quietly, "Yes, Bart. How could you think that I'd do that to you?"

"It wasn't . . . I didn't . . . it wasn't you . . . it was me . . . I was the broken one. The one with all the flaws. You know what New Orleans did to me . . . and then Bret needed help . . . and I couldn't let him hang. I should have come right back here . . . but I didn't. And when I finally did . . . last night happened. I was sure . . . sure I'd waited too long . . . that I was too flawed . . . that you had every right to give up on me. Sure I'd lost you forever . . . and I let you think . . . I let you think . . . "

I was out of air, out of excuses. I was empty, and had nothing else to say. I'd made a mistake last night, and I could tell from the look in your eyes that it was unforgivable. You didn't see it the way I did . . . that the flaws were in me, not you. You thought it was you that I doubted, and not myself . . . there was pain in your eyes, hurt that I'd put there, and I knew. I knew I'd done the worst thing to you I could possibly do . . . I made you think I didn't trust you.

You stood up then, calm and rational. Too calm. "I think you should go, Bart. I need some time . . . to be alone. To think this whole thing through . . . go. Just go."

I didn't argue. I stood, my hat in hand, and looked down at you. I paused for just a moment at the front door, just long enough to say, "I love you, Doralice. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you." Then I walked outside and closed the door behind me. I had no idea . . . if you would ever forgive me. Or not.


	7. A Chance

Chapter 7 – A Chance

I don't know where I went. I climbed on that little blue roan mare and rode . . . until the poor thing couldn't go any further. I finally paid attention when she came to a dead halt and began to drink . . . and I realized I was at the river _. 'How fitting,'_ I thought. _'This is where it all began . . . why shouldn't it be where it ends.'_

There was no doubt in my mind that Doralice and me were finished . . . and that meant my life as I'd known it was over. I never expected to fall in love with Caroline Crawford all those years ago . . . but it snuck up on me without any warning, and then slunk off into the night just as quickly. These feelings I had for Doralice were unexpected; how could a man be lucky enough to find love like that twice in the same lifetime?

I climbed down out of the saddle and dropped Blue's reins so she could graze . . . and I slid down to the base of the nearest tree and sat on the grass. I had everything in the palm of my hand . . . and I let it go. I sat there the rest of the night and watched the stars come up in the sky . . . then watched them fade as the sun rose. I was beaten; I was inconsolable; I was numb. I was standing at an open grave all over again.

I had no desire to move, to go anywhere on the face of the earth, so I sat there. All morning and into the afternoon. I got up once and unsaddled Blue, then sat right back down with my back next to the tree. The afternoon faded into evening before I heard the sound of a horse, and when I looked up I was surprised by the identity of my visitor. It was Pappy.

He dismounted and made his way to where I sat. "Mind if I sit with you a while?" he asked in that cantankerous baritone voice of his.

"Nope," I answered.

We sat there for five or ten minutes before he said anything else. "You hungry?"

"Nope," I answered again.

"I am. Mind if I eat somethin'?"

"Go right ahead." He got up from his place next to me and got a something out of his saddlebags. He'd taken about two bites when I caught the smell and turned to watch him – it was a piece of Lily Mae's chicken. My stomach growled, and I cursed it.

"Got more. Want a piece?" I didn't answer and he dug into his saddlebags again. When he held out the next piece, I took it. "Water?"

I shook my head. "What do you want, Pappy?"

"You. Home."

"I can't do that."

"Gonna sit out here till you rot?"

"If I'm lucky."

He shook his head and sat back down. "Won't do no good."

"Don't much care."

"Bartley . . . " I knew I was in for it now. He never called me Bartley unless he was angry or wanted to make sure I paid attention. "Bartley, I'm disappointed in you."

I waited for the rest of the lecture, but it didn't come. He was busy wiping his hands off on his handkerchief. When he saw me watching him, he stopped but never said anything further.

"That's it?" I asked. "You're disappointed in me?"

Pappy nodded. "Six months ago when you lit outta here like your tail was on fire, you told me you loved the girl. Now one little thing goes wrong and you give up?"

"One . . . little . . . thing. I doubted her love . . . I assumed the worst, and she hadn't done a thing to deserve it . . . I didn't believe she could love me – there had to be a catch. I didn't tell her . . . I didn't tell her I loved her until it was too late."

"How do you know it was too late?"

"She told me to go."

"Now wait a minute – she told you to go, or she told you to go forever?"

"Right now I don't think there's a difference."

Pappy snorted. "There's a big difference, boy. Your momma shot me, remember? She shot me but she didn't kill me. As long as you're both still breathin' there's a chance that she'll come to understand . . . and learn to forgive you. You got one thing goin' for you that you ain't even considered. . . just how much that girl loves you."

It was the first thing he'd said that really caught my attention. Momma shot Pappy but she didn't kill him; and as long as we were both still breathin', there was a chance Doralice'd forgive me. A chance, that's what I still had . . . a chance. I stood up suddenly and reached out a hand to pull Pappy to his feet. "Let's go," I told him.

"Go?" he asked. "Go where?"

"Home, Pappy. Home."


	8. Life Goes On

Chapter 8 – Life Goes On

Everyone did their level best to stay away from me, which was probably a good idea. Not that I would have been upset with anyone but myself – still, peace and quiet allowed me additional time to think about what came next. And as far as I could tell, the only thing I could do was . . . wait.

Just like Pappy did for Momma, I stayed away from Doralice. The differences were obvious – I didn't have a physical wound to mend, and the wedding that had started everything was in less than thirty days. All I could do was pray thirty days was enough time to heal the wounds I had caused.

I did my best to stay busy and avoided Little Bend when at all possible. I played a lot of poker in Claytonville and Asherville and got to know the boys in both places pretty well. There's some good folks in both towns. At the end of two weeks I went in to see Sam Humphries and check out how the tailoring on my new clothes was coming, and he had everything finished but the waistcoat.

"I wanted to see how it fit when you moved in it," Sam explained. "Isn't Miss Donovan with you?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Sam. We'll have to test it some other way. Why don't I just try it on and we'll see how it works?" I had my back turned to Sam as I offered my answer, already trying the waistcoat on, and when I was met with silence I turned to face him. Only it was no longer Sam standing there – it was Maude Donovan. "Maude."

"Bart."

"What are you doin' here?" I was happy to see Maude; I'd missed her friendship. At the same time I was terrified – that maybe Doralice had sent her mother with a message for me . . . one that I didn't want to hear.

"I came to help with the fitting." She must have learned to keep a poker face from Pappy, because she did it quite well. Although the fact that she was here at all gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe I didn't deserve.

"Alright, Mr. Maverick, Mrs. Donovan, please assume the position and waltz for me." There was a smile on Sam's face as he directed us.

"Mrs. Donovan." I reached out and grasped Maude's hand and shivered when I touched her.

"Are you cold, Bart?"

"No, ma'am," I answered, and we waltzed.

The waistcoat fit fine just the way it was, and I tried not to look in Maude's eyes as we 'danced,' but I couldn't help it. I didn't see what I expected in them – they were warm and compassionate, filled with love and pity. It was the pity that bothered me the most. I was ready to stop, but Sam directed us onward.

"How've you been?"

"Me? I'm fine, Bart. How've you been?"

That was a loaded question, and Maude knew it. But I answered her honestly.

"Miserable."

She nodded, commiserating with and acknowledging my state-of-mind at the same time. "Bart."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered quickly.

"I have a message for you."

I stopped dead in my tracks. Whatever the message was, it was too damned important to continue dancing around the tailor shop floor. "From Doralice?" I asked tremulously.

"Yes."

By now I was shaking, and I quickly dropped any physical contact I had with Maude. "What?"

Maude cleared her throat before continuing. "My daughter would like to talk to you. Tomorrow night at nine o'clock, in her office at the saloon."

"That's all?"

"That's all," Maude nodded.

"You can tell Doralice I will be there." I turned my attention back to Sam Humphries, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sam, everything seems to be fine just the way it is. What do I owe you for all this?" By the time I finished paying Sam, Maude was gone.

XXXXXXXX

I admit to doing everything I could in the next thirty hours to drive myself crazy – which wasn't a far stretch to go, anyway. I was convinced Doralice would announce she hated the very sound of my name and never wanted to see me again; then I was just as sure that somehow she'd found it in her heart to forgive me and wanted to try again. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I couldn't stand still and prowled the house and grounds at all hours of the night and morning, until even Melody begged me to go to bed. I poured my heart out to Noble, and he told me what a fool I was to believe that I had any chance at all with Doralice, then I told the same story to Blue and was assured I was still in the running for her heart. I was grasping at straws, of course, eager to get my hands on anything that would grant me some kind of respite from the last two weeks of despair.

I took a bath and prayed she'd missed me as much as I'd missed her, then ended by hoping she could still stand the sight of me. I was so confused I could have bounced off the very walls, and probably did. Nothing helped. I dressed with meticulous care, wanting to look perfect from head to toe. Right about seven o'clock Pappy took me outside for a smoke and made me sit down and go through the whole ritual, step by step, until I was actually blowing smoke out into the clear night air. It didn't change the way I felt any, but it helped to kill time.

Finally it was time to go. Bret had saddled Noble, hoping that our long time relationship would steady my nerves, but I'm not sure anything could at that point.

We rode into town, and I heard every single sound made by every animal and bug alive in mid-Texas. I got to Maude's a few minutes before nine o'clock and waited before walking in. Randy was tending bar and he nodded, motioning me into Doralice's office. The door was closed and I knocked before opening it - her voice came through crystal clear. That same voice that could send a shiver up my spine without too much trouble . . . that beautiful voice that I hadn't heard in two weeks. "Come in," she called, and I felt like I'd been summoned before the queen.

"Come in, Bart, and have a seat. I'm glad you could make it tonight."

Did she think I wouldn't be here? That I'd turn down a chance to see her, even if it was for the last time? Is that why she'd beckoned me here, on neutral ground, so she could kick me out of her life for good? Or was I over-reacting?

"Why did you want to see me, Doralice?"

She answered me almost casually, as if she hadn't given my question a whole lot of thought. "I wanted to talk to you about the wedding, Bart. I wanted you to know that you're still welcome, and no matter what happens between you and me, Cristian still wants you to be there as his best man."


	9. A Change of Heart

Chapter 9 – A Change of Heart?

I just sat there, stunned. She'd called me all the way into town to tell me I was still welcome at the wedding? After two weeks of silence? "I don't want to be there . . . if it will make you uncomfortable, Doralice."

"This isn't about you and me, Bart. This is about Maude and Cristian. And Cristian . . . wants you to be his best man."

I couldn't help myself – I had to ask. "And what do you want?"

For the first time, she faltered. The well-placed mask that she'd been wearing slipped, and I saw the pain still in those aqua eyes. "I want . . . I want . . . I don't know what I want, Bart. I want it all to go away. Can you give me that?" She looked at me and tears slipped down her face, and I'd have given anything, done anything, to take her in my arms and hold her, to kiss her and tell her that I loved her.

I just sat there, afraid to move, and she just sat there, afraid to say anything, and I knew that she was caught in an impasse, just like I was. We could have been there for days without moving, or thinking, or breathing, each of us waiting for the other one to make the first move.

Finally, I got to my feet. "No, I can't. All I can give you is me . . . flawed, imperfect, more than likely to make the same mistakes over and over again. But I love you, Doralice. No matter that I made it look like I didn't have a brain in my head, or a trusting bone in my body. All I can give you is that love, for the rest of my life. And I guess that ain't enough." I crossed the room and pulled the door open before I turned back to the woman behind the desk. "Tell Cristian I'll be there, for him."

I took one step out of the office and almost ran over Maude. "Sorry," I muttered as I stepped around the woman that would have been my mother-in-law at some point in the future. I headed for the front door and heard one of them call my name, but I don't know which one it was.

I kept on walking, through the saloon and out the batwing doors, straight out to Noble. When I mounted I headed him home and went there without thinking. I unsaddled him and groomed him, then went to bed. I went to sleep, with no nightmares or dreams, and stayed that way until well after sunrise. There was no decision to make; it had been made for me. I'd serve as Cristian's best man at the wedding in two weeks, then I'd pack my bags and leave. I had to. It was the only way to survive.

XXXXXXXX

Over the next two weeks I did everything I could to avoid my family. They wanted me to talk, and I had nothin' to talk about.

Pappy tried to tempt me with cigars; Bret with his Big Brother routine. Lily Mae cooked all my favorite foods in the hopes of keeping me at the table after everyone was finished; and Ginny just turned up in the oddest places, waiting to see if I wanted to talk. The only one I wanted to talk to evidently had nothin' to say to me.

I'd been through this before, when Caroline died. That's what made this one worse, knowing that Doralice was alive and so close I could almost touch her. I'd never intended for things to end up this way, but I'd sealed my own fate, and now I was going to pay the consequences.

The day before the wedding I rode into Little Bend to see Milt Hightower and get a haircut. I'd begun to look like I should be out in the woods, trappin' bear and hidin' from people. I did my best to avoid everyone, but just as Milt was almost finished, I had an unexpected visitor – the groom to be, himself.

Cristian looked good – he looked happy. We shook hands and talked briefly while Milt finished. "Will you join me in some coffee at Sawyer's when you're done?"

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but something I felt was necessary. I gave him my standard answer. "Sure."

We walked up the street towards Sawyer's, and for the first time I noticed that Little Bend was having another one of its growth spurts. After all the years of complainin' that he was gonna tear the Little Bend Bar down, Benny White was doing just the opposite. He'd bought the vacant building next door and was actually expanding and makin' repairs. There was a new gun shop bein' built, and Little Bend was finally gettin' its very own blacksmith shop. And down at the end of the block, a men's hat store. No more goin' to Claytonville when a hat was in order.

We were seated and workin' on our coffee before Cristian said anything. "Bart, I know this is none of my business . . . but as happy as Maude and me are, there's something that's breaking her heart." I nodded; there was nothing much I could say. "Doralice . . . Doralice still loves you."

"She might at that, Cristian, but she's given up on us. There's nothin' I can do about it."

He shook his head. "If she's given up on you, then why do I hear her weeping in the night? Why is she always crying in her office? Why does she never smile anymore? I tell you, Bart, she loves you. And her pride does not let her come to you and tell you this. She thinks you would not respect her if she forgave you for being merely . . . human."

What he was telling me made sense . . . but what if he was wrong? "Cristian . . . did she take any more dance lessons?" The attorney looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. And maybe I had. But it was important, and I needed to know.

"I don't know, Bart. The only one that would know an answer to this would be Maude."

"I know this is a lot to ask . . . can you find out for me?"

"Now? You need to know now?" I could hear it in his voice, I could see it in his eyes. _'Crazy gringo.'_

"I need to know now."

"Can you wait here for a few minutes? Maude was in her office when I left."

I nodded. I'd wait forever if I had to. "I can wait."

"Alright. I will return as soon as possible." And in just a few seconds, Cristian de la Torres was gone.

I drank another cup of coffee. Cristian came back out of the saloon and walked down the street to the bank. Five minutes went by, then ten, and finally he returned. With a smile on his face.

"Well?" I asked.

"Maude says yes, Doralice continued to take dance lessons from Aaron Miller. Why is that important?"

My heart skipped a beat. And then it skipped a second one. Maybe it wasn't important, but I sure thought it was. I broke out into a big smile. Live in hope . . .

"You'll know tomorrow, Cristian. And tell Maude not to worry anymore. With just a little luck . . . tell her not to worry. I have to go now. Thanks for the help." I jumped up, almost spilling what was left of my coffee. I had to get home right away. I needed to talk to Pappy.


	10. Tonight We Dance

Chapter 10 – Tonight We Dance

"What do you suppose, Pappy? Could Doralice be thinkin' that there's still somethin' there worth fightin' for? Is that why she kept takin' the dance lessons, even after she told me to go?"

Pappy's eyes were on me as he relit his cigar. "You must think so, or you wouldn't a brought it up with me."

I nodded my head. "I do, but it ain't my opinion that's important. It's yours."

"Well, I tell ya . . . women don't do somethin' like that without a reason. It was you she was determined to dance with at the wedding. Why would she want to do that if there weren't no hope for nothin' but a dance? Nope, boy, I think she's still prayin' . . . that there's a way to work this all out . . . sounds like she wants you to open the door. You slammed it in her face once before . . . it's up to you to get it open again. You got the nerve to do that? Is this the one you can't live without?"

The answer to that question was an easy one. I prayed to God he was right . . . and it wasn't too late for me and Doralice. I'd lived through the preceding twenty-nine days, I had to find a way to live through one more night. And I hoped with every ounce of breath in my body that Pappy and me were right about the woman I loved.

XXXXXXXX

I was up early the next day, taking a bath before everyone else had a chance to, nervous as a cat. I dressed in the crème colored frock coat, with the gold and silver waistcoat and a brand new silk shirt I'd bought just for tonight. When I ordered the new clothes, I was buying them to replenish my wardrobe and wear to the wedding, but as I got dressed I came to the conclusion that I was wearing them strictly for Doralice. I saddled and rode Blue into Little Bend, about an hour before the festivities were supposed to start.

I went to Maude's house, as agreed upon the last time Cristian and I had spoken. The wedding and reception were being held at the saloon itself; that's where Maude and Doralice were gettin' ready. But Cristian and me were at the house.

"How you feelin'?" I questioned the groom, and he asked me the same thing. "Pretty good," was my response, and he nodded his head.

"You happy with the answers you got from your father yesterday?"

"I am." Pappy was giving the bride away, but he'd be in a little later and would meet the ladies at Maude's. "How was Doralice this morning?"

"She seemed . . . peaceful. "

"This should be a happy day for her. To see you and Maude get married . . . she's been a big booster of yours for quite a while."

Cristian nodded. "Maude and me were lucky. She's been on our side from the very start." He walked over to the window and looked out nervously, then turned to ask me a question. "Bart, what are you going to do?"

"Me, Cristian? I'm not gonna do anything. I'm gonna stand up there as your best man and watch two of the finer people on the face of the earth marry each other. And I'm gonna be happy when it's all over."

"You know what I mean. What are you gonna do about Doralice?"

"I ain't gonna do anything, Cristian. The lady's got a mind of her own and she already knows what she wants outta life. And it don't look like that includes me." That wasn't at all what I had in mind, but it was all Cristian needed to know. This was his and Maude's wedding day, and they didn't need to be anticipatin' trouble of any sort.

He reached out and shook hands with me. "I'm sorry to hear you say that. You're one of the better men I've ever met out here, and I was hoping . . ."

"So was I."

There was a knock on the door, and I went to answer it. Pappy stood there with a grin a mile wide on his face and I swear, if I hadn't known better I'd have thought he was the bridegroom. "What are you doin' here?" I asked him.

"Oh, just came down to see if either of you was havin' second thoughts about anything."

"Come in, Beauregard!" I heard from behind me, and Pappy did.

"You're a lucky man, Cristian. That is one fine lookin' woman you're marryin' tonight."

The attorney laughed. "Don't I know it. And she's lucky to have a good friend like you. Thanks for everything you've done for us."

We stood around and talked for a few minutes; then it was time for Pappy to get back up to the saloon. I walked him to the door. "How is she, really?" I asked, meaning, of course, Doralice.

"She's gorgeous, boy. And nervous as a mouse in a roomful of cats. I do believe you're right. Just play them cards and don't throw away that queen."

I smiled at my father. "Yes, Pappy. You take good care of both of 'em. We'll be right down."

I closed the door behind him and turned back to Cristian. "You ready to go?"

"Yes, sir. Ready as I'll ever be."

XXXXXXXX

I stood next to Cristian, who stood next to the preacher, and held my breath as the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen walked down the aisle. The saloon was packed and Doralice could have been the bride herself; she wore a creamy gold dress and carried a bouquet of yellow and gold flowers. She looked right at me and attempted a smile when she got to her place up by the makeshift pulpit and all heads turned to see the bride.

Maude had outdone herself. Her dress was a pale, pale yellow and she carried an armful of white lily-of-the-valley, which she handed to Doralice when Pappy got her to the preacher. I don't remember anything that was said; you know how weddings are. I was too busy staring at the maid-of-honor and praying with every fiber in me that Pappy and me were right; that all I had to do . . .

Once they were pronounced man and wife, the floor was cleared and Little Bend's own band set up and got ready to play. The beer and whiskey were flowing and Randy and the other bartenders brought the food out from behind the bar; the tables had been moved back to the far corners of the saloon, and I went looking for Doralice. When I found her, she was having a conversation with Aaron Miller and his wife. "You did a beautiful job with the gowns, Mrs. Miller," I congratulated the seamstress as I kissed the back of her hand.

Then I turned to Mr. Miller. "I'm sure you did as good a job teaching this lady to waltz, Mr. Miller." I reached out my hand for his pupil and continued, "Shall we go see?" just as the first dance of the afternoon started. Of course, it was a waltz.

Doralice hesitated, and for just a moment my breath caught in my throat. Then she smiled and took my hand. "Why thank you, Mr. Maverick. I'd be honored to dance with you." We weren't the only couple that spun out onto the floor, but she was the only one I could see.

We danced the first dance, and it was glorious. She'd done well with her lessons; you'd never know that the woman hadn't been waltzing her entire life. I held her in my arms gingerly, as if she was a china doll that would easily break, and watched her face as we swirled around the floor. I could hardly breathe, and I understood just what Pappy meant about knowing that I couldn't live without her. When the music started for the second dance she stayed right where she belonged, in my arms. "Bart, we need to talk," was the only thing she said.

I pulled her close against me; I wondered if she could hear my heart beating the way I heard hers. I reached down and kissed her, and her response was hesitant at first. "I love you," I murmured in her ear, and kissed her again. This time there was no hesitation, and there was no one in the world but the two of us.

"I love you, too," I heard her whisper back.

The music stopped and I led her to a table in the back of the saloon. Once we were seated I grasped her hands in mine and poured out my heart to her. "I can't . . . I don't wanna live without you. I was so thoughtless before . . . ain't nothin' in the world more important than you."

Then Doralice asked me what was probably the most crucial question she could have asked me. "Not even poker?"

And I didn't hesitate. "Not even poker."

I looked into those aqua eyes and wondered if she believed me. It was the most honest answer I'd ever given anyone in my entire life. I'd laid out everything right in front of her, and whether I lived or died was entirely in her hands.

"I don't . . . I don't wanna live without you either." She smiled at me, the way I'd first seen her smile down in Mexico, and I knew that we'd be alright. We had some things to work out, but I knew we could. "But Bart, there's so many things we need to talk about . . . so many things we should get straight between us."

I stood up and pulled her up with me. There was nothing I wanted more than to hold this woman in my arms, to feel her body pressed against mine. I smiled back at her. "Shhh, we've got the rest of our lives to talk, my love. Tonight we dance."

The End

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!


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